


#34: "Difficult"

by theskywasblue



Series: 100 days, 100 prompts [42]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 05:44:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10379778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: The clock crept, sluggishly, towards three a.m.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Took a couple of days off because my brain was fried and I couldn't be arsed. By popular(ish) demand, another (less interesting) snippet from [this universe](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10173485)

The clock crept, sluggishly, towards three a.m. as Gavin finally got the last of the dishes shuttled into the drier, and hauled the last bags of trash to the back door, propping it open with the handle of the big push broom and heaving them out into the narrow alleyway, to the reeking mouth of the big red dumpster.

The night was bitterly cold, and overwhelmingly dark; silent, as if the world was holding its breath. Without his jacket, it wasn't something Gavin was going to take any time to enjoy. Just as he was about to slip back inside, the cat appeared from behind a stack of old wooden pallets, mewling fussily as it darted through the open door and into the kitchen. It parked itself on the rubber mat in front of the big fridge, and gave Gavin a meaningful look.

“I don’t think April feeds you now,” Gavin said, rubbing his face with the back of one chapped hand, saturated with the mingled smells of stale food and lemon dish soap.

The cat squinted its green eyes, puffy tail swishing irritably back and forth.

“I don’t even think there’s any cat food in there.”

It hissed in response. Resigned, Gavin dragged himself to the fridge, and scanned the contents. There were a few slices of deli meat - chicken, maybe - that didn’t look too much like April would miss them, so he pulled the out, and dropped them on the tile. The cat proceeded to gobble them greedily up, and then vanished up the back stairs in a flash of orange and white. Gavin gazed longingly up the dark stairwell after it, his aching feet protesting the very thought of climbing even one of the thirteen, slightly crooked steps.

He sat, gingerly, on the bottom step, and tucked himself under the handrail, back against the wall, thinking he’d just rest for a minute, or maybe work his way up one step at a time. His glasses slid down on his nose and he couldn’t bothered to push them back up again.

The clock ticked over to three, and Gavin started to snore.


End file.
